I Remember Roy Rogers
by Elenhin
Summary: This is a oneshot, a little cute story about a part of Jonathan Kent's childhood and his memories.


Author's Note: Okay, this is really just a cute bit of story about a part of Jonathan Kent in his childhood. It's partially inspired by a song called 'I remember Roy Rogers,' which I love very much.

Big thanks to Vinsemouse for beta work.

**Warning**: _The warning is placed here for vinsmouse, who wanted a spew warning here, claiming it might be a bad idea to drink while reading the funnier parts. So please keep in mind that drinking any kind of beverage while reading this, might be hazzard'ous to the health of your screen. _

Disclaimer: Jonathan Kent or anyone else in Smallville does not belong to me, thought I do claim the right to the cap gun and the hat I lent him for this story…

* * *

**_I Remember Roy Rogers_**

"Clark, what are you doing?" Martha asked, as she saw her son in the loft moving boxes and trunks around.

"I've seen this junk everyday, but I have no idea what's in them." Clark told her, as he opened a box of some old school books and briefly examined them.

"Well, your dad's mother was quite a pack rat," Martha smiled softly. "She saved just about everything and your dad doesn't throw too much away either."

Clark closed the box again. "Our English teacher wants us to write an essay about something that was stored away and forgotten," he explained.

"Well, there sure is a lot of that in here," Martha smiled softly. "Want me to help you look?"

Clark nodded briefly. "That might be a good idea, cause I have no idea where half this stuff comes from, or even what some of it is."

"Well, these are some of your dads baby clothes." Martha grinned as she held up a tiny plaid shirt. "We brought most of those out when we got you."

"What is that?" Clark asked, as his eyes caught something propped into a corner, half hidden by a stack of crates. Digging into the corner he brought out a stick horse. The head was made of wood with a thick mane that looked real, it was painted and had a set of reins complete with a bit in the mouth of the smiling head. The stick itself was worn to an angle at the bottom and was stained and worn. There was something that had been burned into the wood and Clark brought it out into the light.

"Trigger," he read. "Mom, why's it say Trigger on it?"

Martha smiled, "Well, Trigger is the name of Roy Rogers horse. He was always doing some great tricks. I used to like watching those, I guess your father did too."

"You mean those old western movies he always watches?" Clark frowned. "John Wayne and Gene Autry, right?"

Martha nodded, "Yeah, they are good movies Clark."

"So is this dad's?" Clark asked looking the stick horse over. Whoever had owned it had nearly worn it out.

"It looks like something Hiram made for him," Martha nodded. "He told me his father made him a stick horse once and how much he loved it. I understand why he never could throw it away."

"Can't quite picture dad with a stick horse," Clark grinned shaking his head. He pulled out the trunk that the stick horse had been propped against and opened it. On the top was a battered old cowboy hat.

"Look at this," Clark took it out of the trunk and looked at it. It was a faded brown, beaten and stained. It was easy to tell that whoever had worn the hat had done it plenty. "Was this dad's too?"

"I guess it would have to be." Martha smiled as she picked out a few worn and patched flannel shirts and jeans. "I think you found the trunk where his mom put away his cowboy stuff."

"Dad liked to dress up like a cowboy?" Clark grinned as a cap gun followed and a leather holster. There was a Winchester carved out of wood as well.

"Well, your dad was a child the same as everyone else," Martha smiled. "Hiram must have made this too," she told him as she held the wooden Winchester.

Clark grinned as he fished out a leather vest, a pair of chaps made of a pair of old jeans and a pair of very worn child sized cowboy boots. It seemed that when his dad played cowboy he did it good.

"What's this?" he frowned as he held up two tin cans. One of which had a single hole in it, and the other had six holes spread out over the can.

"Haven't you ever seen a cowboy throw a tin in the air and shoot a hole through it?" Jonathan suddenly asked from behind them.

"Hi dad," Clark greeted him. "So, this really is your stuff then?"

"Yeah," Jonathan gave a small smile as he picked up one tin and the cap gun. "I saw them do it on the TV, so I used a hammer and nail to put the holes in, then…" He threw the tin into the air and raised the gun towards it. "Bang!" Blowing the imaginary smoke from the barrel, he picked up the can and handed it to Clark with a grin.

"Why the one with only one hole?" Clark wanted to know.

Jonathan shrugged. "A good cowboy can hit a can in the air, a great cowboy can hit the same hole six times."

Martha smiled softly seeing her husband standing there with the cap gun. She knew what he had looked like when he was a child, and she could just imagine how cute he would have been playing cowboy.

"And your dad made you a stick horse?" Clark smiled.

Jonathan nodded. "He did, I had been using the fence by throwing a blanket over the top and tying a rope to the fence post. I guess he figured it was better so he just made it one afternoon."

"So you really played that you were a cowboy?" Clark grinned. "What did you do, run around the yard, shooting bad guys all the time."

"Well, part of the time," Jonathan grinned as he pulled out a rope lasso out of the bottom. Me and Jack got fairly good at using this though, my dad told us we couldn't do it anymore after he caught us though."

"Why wouldn't he let you do that?" Clark asked and Jonathan gave an embarrassed cough.

"Well, we caught one but we weren't really strong enough to hold her, so she dragged off with us." He admitted. "And after Jack nearly strangled me we weren't allowed to use it on each other either."

"Is that Jack, Senator Jack Jennings?" Clark asked baffled, finding it rather hard to see the Senator dressed up as a cowboy.

"Jonathan, aren't there some pictures of you in your mother's photo album." Martha suddenly said as she thought she had a memory of a photo with two little cowboys in it. One of them holding onto a small calf to look like a real cowboy. The Senator was her husband's childhood friend and his mother had taken quite a few pictures of the two young boys as they grew up.

Grinning broadly Clark seemed to blur for a bit as he ran inside and grabbed the album, before going right back to them, opening it and looking at the faded pictures. Sure enough, there was his father with the gun, hat and Winchester. There was also a state senator and a farmer both on the same horse.

What Clark thought was the most amusing though was the blonde tot that was feeding his stick horse a bit of sugar. Obviously the horse had done good and there was a bar laid over two barrels beside him.

"So much for bribing the horse," Jonathan grinned as he saw the picture. "You just can't really jump anything riding a stick horse, they trip you…"

"So the only trick that Trigger did was trip?" Clark grinned. "Hey Dad, can I bring some of this to school, for the essay."

"Just be careful with them Clark," Jonathan grinned. "Might just be old junk collecting dust and rust, but I was quite fond of them when I was a kid."

"Don't worry Dad, I'll be really careful." Clark assured him as his parents went back to their chores and he went back to his homework. When he came inside he saw his father watching an old black and white western absently, as he worked with some papers. It made him wonder if there wasn't always gonna be a part of his father that was toting a stick horse named Trigger and a cap gun.

He sure hoped so.

The End.

_Please leave a review, the Cricket is hungry……_


End file.
